


Shield Psychiatric Hospital

by SophieRomanoff97



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Awesome Bruce Banner, Awesome Bucky Barnes, Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awesome Phil Coulson, Awesome Steve Rogers, Awesome Tony Stark, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Delusions, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Gen, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Maria Hill Feels, Maria Hill is a Good Bro, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Nick Fury Feels, Nick Fury is a Good Bro, POV Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Phil Coulson Is a Good Bro, Protective Natasha Romanov, References to Depression, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieRomanoff97/pseuds/SophieRomanoff97
Summary: 'When Natasha woke up, it was to an unfamiliar room.That in itself wasn't actually that unfamiliar. It happened with the job more often than one would think.It was the kind of room she woke up that startled her.'When Natasha wakes up to perhaps the weirdest situation, with two weeks of memories gone, her first thought is to find her friends. But her friends are acting strangely and don't seem to remember her properly and soon she is left to try and understand what is happening and why she is now supposedly locked up in a psych ward.Option one, this is all an elaborate trick and she must find her way back to the real world.Option two, this is the real world and she must come to terms with the fact that she has lost her mind.Which option is the real one?Come find out.





	1. A whole new world

**Author's Note:**

> The mental hospital AU no one asked for.
> 
> Based loosely on The Magician's episode where Quentin is in the mental hospital. Also on my own experiences. However I was hospitalized in England not America so things may not be quite accurate but I hope I've seen enough TV to get most things right.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! I'm really excited about writing it and I hope I do all the characters justice.
> 
> TW'S: self harm mentions, mental health and mental health issues including depression, schizophrenia and catatonia.

When Natasha woke up, it was to an unfamiliar room. 

That in itself wasn't actually that unfamiliar. It happened with the job more often than one would think.

It was the kind of room she woke up that startled her.

Sitting up, the woman scanned the room and tried to take stock of all the strange details.

For one, the room was fairly empty. Two, there was a bed opposite her own that held a slumbering woman she didn't recognise.

With a frown, Natasha clambered off the bed. If she woke up somewhere strange, she was usually tied down or otherwise restrained.

But she climbed off the bed with ease, confusion growing as her bare feet hit the floor.

Looking down at herself, she found she was clothed in a matching two piece set of yellow pyjamas.

It was then she noticed the plastic band wrapped around her wrist.

Just as she twisted the plastic to read what it said, the door opened.

The man who walked in was a welcome sight to see and Natasha immediately walked over. "Phil?"

"Natalie, good morning. How are you feeling today?" Phil hummed. He wasn't dressed in pyjamas, wore regular clothes that were a long way from the suit he usually adorned. He had a badge clipped to the collar of his shirt.

"What...what do you mean how am I? What the fuck is going on here?" Natasha hissed, her stomach rolling as she studied his face. He recognized her, sure, but the familiarity that was usually there seemed to be missing.

"It's med time, so go out and join the line. And no hiding them this time, alright?"

Med time? What the fuck was going on?

"You too, Hannah, up we get. Med time." Phil said softly as he headed to the figure on the other bed.

The woman there grumbled and lifted her hands up and over her ears. "I don't want to." She whispered.

Phil moved to crouch at the woman's head. "I know. But we need to get your meds and then we can go to breakfast, okay?"

The woman sniffled like she was crying but Natasha couldn't see her face.

Phil looked over his shoulder. "Go on now, Natalie."

Natasha, at a loss for what to do and hoping if she left the room, she would get some answers, she headed out the door.

She walked down a hallway, passing a few other people in pyjamas and another person in regular clothes. She didn't recognize any of them.

As she walked towards where other people seemed to be heading, Natasha finally read the information on the bracelet.

Natalie Rushman. Female. 11/22/1984. Admitted 09/13/2018.

That...that was two weeks ago? She'd been in there for two fucking weeks?

What the hell was happening?

For one, she hadn't used the name Natalie since she'd gone undercover at Stark Industries. Secondly, she didn't remember anything from the past two weeks.

She found herself in a line in front of a desk, and there behind the desk, two people were handing out little cups with meds in them.

Maria was one of the two and as she caught the woman's gaze, it was as if she didn't even recognize her.

Natasha's worry deepened.

Had they all been drugged? Were they being kept there by someone who had orchestrated this whole thing?

Somebody mumbled at her to move up the queue and she found herself in front of Maria. 

The woman took her arm, scanned the bracelet around her wrist and handed her a cup with three little tablets inside. 

Maria was looking at her arm, her sleeve rolled up a little to show her bracelet. And a bandage that Natasha hadn't even noticed until that moment.

Maria offered her a small smile as she handed her a cup of water. "You got that looked at?"

Natasha blinked, well and truly confused. "I..."

"Just make sure you go see the doctor later. I'll let him know to expect you." Maria murmured, watching carefully as Natasha pretended to take the meds, easily sliding them into her other sleeve.

She went to move out of the line when Maria stopped her. "You know the drill, Natalie, open your mouth."

Natasha, stunned for a second, slowly opened her mouth.

"Lift your tongue." Maria nodded.

After doing so, she was cleared to leave the line.

With no idea what was going on, Natasha trailed towards the smell of food.

She hasn't realized before how starving hungry she was and she automatically joined the line for food before she even realized what she was doing.

As soon as she was in the line, she knew she'd made a mistake. The food could be how they were controlling people so she stepped out and went to sit at an empty table to watch as more people joined the line.

The food really did smell good and her stomach grumbled in protest at her leaving. 

She was alone for just a few seconds before a tray clattered on the table and the chair opposite her was pulled out.

Natasha looked up from her hands to find Clint. And she'd never been so grateful to see him.

"No food today?" He said amicably, already shoveling eggs into his mouth. "They'll write you up again, you know. That's just more time here." 

"Clint?" Natasha breathed, glancing around at her surroundings before leaning over the table. "What the hell is going on?"

Clint looked up from his food, raising an eyebrow. "Breakfast?"

"No, I mean what is this place? Where are we?" Natasha hissed.

Clint watched her critically. "So you know?"

Natasha felt hope rise in her chest. "Yes. Something is wrong. Where are we?"

"Training." Clint shrugged, stabbing a sausage and chewing thoughtfully.

"Training? What kind of fucked up training is this? Did they drug us?" Natasha asked, the look in his eyes scaring her.

"I mean, most of us are on drugs, sure. Why, did they change yours? Aw man, did you forget again? You remember the schedule, right?"

Clint was just confusing her more and more.

"Clint." She spat the word out. "What training?"

"For the circus? We're gonna be starting shows soon. Man, they really messed you up, huh? Did you try to leave or something?" 

Natasha's blood ran cold. She pushed herself up form the chair, taking a step back before turning and fleeing the room.

She ran smack into Tony. He caught her, though he looked dazed. His eyes were glazed.

"Tony?" Natasha breathed, heart thudding in his ears. 

"I don't know you. Please don't touch me." Tony whispered, backing up. He dropped his head and quickly moved past her.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she whipped around, fists out.

She was met by a grin she knew too well. "Easy, Natalie. Just me." Bucky smiled at her.

"Buck?" Natasha whispered, gripping his bicep.

Bucky hummed and nodded his head. "Come on, music therapy is starting soon. You don't want to miss it do you? Are you going to sing today?"

Bucky gently nudged her in the direction of a room to their left.

They walked into it and Natasha saw everyone sitting in a circle, holding various instruments.

It was there she saw the rest of her friends all except Thor.

Bruce was sitting in the corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest and a stuffed animal smushed under his chin.

Steve was sitting in a chair, holding a tambourine but looking blank. It looked like his grip on the instrument was just pure luck more than his want to hold it.

Bobbi Morse was standing in the middle of the circle. "Ah Natalie, come join us. Thank you, James."

Bucky smiled and winked at Natasha. "I look forward to hearing what you come up with today."

Natasha took a chair out of pure confusion, anxiety building in her chest.

She looked up at Bobbi as she started to hand out papers with lyrics on them.

Natasha watched her and felt her eyes burn with tears.

What was happening?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety, unintentional self harm and self harm (that the character doesn't remember doing). References to past suicide attempt (Bruce)

If Natasha hadn't been scared out of her mind and confused beyond belief, she might have enjoyed the music group.

Sure, none of the instruments really matched up with the song, but most of them in the circle seemed to enjoy it.

Natasha was in fact, struggling to remember the fact that something fucking strange was going on.

She kept forcing herself to watch Steve, eyes still absent as he occasionally shook the tambourine in his hand.

And then Bruce, having not moved once from the chair he was curled up, though his cheeks grew wetter each time Natasha looked over.

As soon as the group was finished, the woman bolted up from her seat and rushed out the doors.

She'd remembered seeing two doors that opened up to a small garden and she made a beeline for them. 

As soon as she was outside, she took herself far away from the doors and tucked herself into the corner by the fence.

She sat, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her chin against them.

She was bone tired, though she had no idea why, and the static that filled her brain still meant she couldn't remember anything of her time in the hospital.

It was terrifying, to have two weeks missing. To not know what she'd been doing or what had happened and she tried so hard to remember just a sliver of anything.

She thought so hard pain blossomed in her temples but still no memories came.

Was she really losing her fucking mind?

She couldn't be. She knew who she was. Natasha Romanoff, agent of Shield, super spy and part of The Avengers.

This was just some sort of fucked up magic or like she'd thought earlier, they were all drugged. This had to be part of something big, something awful. She just had to remember what.

She had to get her friends to remember so she wasn't alone in it.

Clambering to her feet, Natasha decided she would find one of the others. Clint was clearly a no go and Tony was out after the way he'd reacted earlier.

Bucky had seemed happy to see her. Maybe he remembered something and that was why he'd been so warm to her.

They'd both been brainwashed and wiped before, maybe that was how she remembered who she was. Hopefully he would too.

As she entered the doors, she passed Bruce sitting in what looked like a communal area. Her heart hurt at the expression on his face; sad and broken and tired.

She remembered that expression from their first moments together, when he'd told them all how he'd shot himself because he didn't see an end.

She needed to get them out of there.

Not entirely sure where to go to find Bucky, she headed to the door that said 'Main office' on it.

She knocked and waited for someone to answer, sure her stomach was never going to settle until the whole thing was over.

"Hey, Natalie, what can I do for you?" A voice pulled her from her thoughts. Coulson.

"I...I was wondering if Bucky was in there. I'd like to talk to him." She said quietly, keeping her head up and maintaining eye contact even though it hurt to see the look in her handler's face.

Phil's gaze glanced down to her bandaged arm very quickly, almost too quick to miss for anyone who wasn't an actual spy. He nodded and called behind him into the room, "Barnes."

Bucky came up behind Phil, an easy smile on his face. "Hey, Nat, you wanna take a walk?"

Natasha nodded, nails digging into her palm at the nickname. He had to remember her. He had to.

Bucky closed the door behind him and carefully ushered her into the nearest hallway.

"What's going on, Natalie?" Bucky asked kindly, leaning against the wall.

"I..." If Bucky didn't remember, Natasha knew that what she could say would make her sound bat shit crazy. "Do you remember when I got here?" She asked instead of the burning question she wanted to ask, (do you remember me?).

Bucky's face was unreadable and he hummed before nodding. "I do." He said softly.

"What happened?" Natasha whispered.

"You don't remember? I bet that's scary, huh?" If possible, his voice got kinder.

"I mean...yeah, it's kinda scary." Natasha frowned.

"You should talk to your doctor about that but it's understandable you're having trouble remembering. You went through a big trauma and sometimes the mind forgets in order to protect you." Bucky said carefully.

"What happened?" She asked again, brows pulled together.

"I...I'm not sure if that's something I should be discussing, Nat, that's something to talk about with Fury." 

Fury was here too? And he was her doctor? Fuck.

"Please...Buck, I'm scared. I don't...I dont remember anything. The...the past two weeks is...gone." 

Bucky hummed, folding his arms over his chest. "But you remembered my name, that's a good start, Natalie." 

"You really don't remember do you?" Natasha thought she might be sick.

"Remember what?" Bucky asked.

"Us. Our life. The...The Avengers and saving the world. Russia. You don't remember any of it?"

Bucky's expression morphed into something Natasha still couldn't read but she knew he looked worried.

"Natalie, what do you think is going on here?" He asked softly.

"I don't know what's going on, just that we shouldn't be here. We don't belong here. I'm not crazy." Natasha breathed.

"No one thinks you're crazy, not at all. And it's normal to feel like you shouldn't be here but, Natalie, you're here for your safety." 

"My...safety? What are you on about? I'm here because something is really fucking wrong. Because someone put us here." She was getting worked up now and she could feel tears burning in her eyes.

"You remember who brought you in, right?" Bucky asked, his brows furrowed. 

"I...no? Do you? Who did this to us?" Maybe he was remembering!

"Your mom, Natalie. She was very worried about you." He said gently.

Her...mom? She didn't even remember her mom. She'd died when she was so young she couldn't even remember the colour of her eyes or how her voice sounded.

"My moms...dead." Natasha whispered.

"Nat, she's coming to see you later. She's not dead, she's even bringing you some outside food. You don't remember talking about it yesterday?"

"No...no, that's wrong. She...She died when I was young. There was a fire. They all died."

"There was a fire," Bucky conceded, "but everyone got out. You moved to America after that."

Natasha's chest was tight. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Without realizing, her nails dug into the bandage on her arm.

It wasn't until Bucky grabbed her hand that she noticed she was bleeding. 

"Easy, Nat. Here, let's go see the doc so he can fix your arm up." He smiled, squeezing her hand.

Natasha couldn't help but concede, following him on shaky legs, feeling like her lungs were about to burst.

Her mother? Her family was alive?

She was seriously losing her mind, wasn't she?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: past self harm and hints at an eating disorder

Natasha watched almost detached from herself as the doctor, someone she vaguely remembered, had seen before, unwrapped the bandage around her arm.

It wasn't her own arm, couldn't be, her arm hadn't looked that for a long long time.

But still it hurt as the doctor poked and prodded at the stitches crawling from her wrist up to the inside of her elbow. But she knew it couldn't have possibly been her arm.

Bucky was watching her from his position leaning against the wall, eyes never leaving her face even as the doctor revealed the gruesome mess that was definitely not her arm.

_Apparently_ she'd popped some of the stitches, the doctor told her after he'd done cleaning up the slowly congealing blood.

Natasha found herself filled with the notion that she hadn't meant to do so and whilst she didn't care about the doctor, she cared about Bucky and needed him to know.

"I didn't mean to." She said quietly, lifting her head from where she'd been staring at a spot on the wall.

"I know." Bucky said kindly, warmly.

She was also aware of the urge to tell him she hadn't meant to cut herself, that she wouldn't do that, not now, but a niggling voice in the back of her head stopped her.

It didn't matter. Because her arm looked like that and because she could see scars littering her skin, he wouldn't believe her. No one would. It would just make her sound _more_ crazy. Especially if she told them that someone had done it to her.

It didn't matter.

After placing some butterfly strips over her skin to replace the popped stitches, she was being wrapped back up and sent on her way with a "if it starts to hurt a lot or feels hot at all, come see me." From the doctor.

Aware of how bone tired she was, she more shuffled after Bucky than walked.

"Why don't we go to the office and call your mom, huh? Maybe it would help to hear her voice." Bucky suggested as the headed back to the communal area.

Natasha was about to say something when a figure shoved into her, knocking her off balance and causing her to tumble onto her ass on the floor.

She barely had time to comprehend what was happening before the sounds of shouts and furniture being thrown echoed around the room.

Even from the floor, Natasha only just managed to duck in time to avoid a chair being belted full speed at her head.

Lifting her head cautiously, she saw that Bucky and two other men with name tags were holding someone down on the floor.

The person on the floor was struggling greatly, kicking and spitting and screaming and it was then Natasha saw who the person was.

Her heart lurched in her throat as she clambered up to her feet. A hand steadied her and a voice asked if she was okay but she didn't even register it, eyes fixed on Bruce, thrashing and now crying as one of the men slid a needle into his hip.

She had to get out of there. She had to get them all out of there.

When Natasha next came to awareness fully, Bruce was limp and the men were carrying him away down the corridor.

She still didn't register that someone was talking to her, not until the person blocked her view of Bruce.

"Natalie?" Maria was asking her, a steadying hand on her bicep. "Are you hurt?"

Natasha swallowed bile and slowly lifted her head. She didn't feel hurt, though that could have easily been the fact she was running on adrenaline. But she shook her head anyway, finally finding her voice. "N...No. Not hurt." She stammered.

"Let's go sit down." Maria said, gently tugging on her arm until Natasha moved.

She didn't remember the trip to the chairs but she was suddenly sitting down, shaking.

Maria pulled a seat over in front of her and sat. "That must have been scary." She said quietly.

It wasn't anything Natasha hadn't seen before. It was just usually, Bruce wasn't Bruce, he was Hulk.

"I...a little." Natasha conceded with a frown. "Is he okay?"

"He'll sleep the meds off in the quiet room." Maria nodded and Natasha knew that was a half assed answer if ever she'd heard one.

"You're looking pale, Natalie, do you want help to your room?" Maria asked softly. "I can get someone to bring your lunch to you. Did you eat breakfast?"

Natasha shook her head, her mind running a mile a minute to try and catch up with what had just happened and how it was all connected.

"No?" Maria asked, though Natasha could tell what she really wanted to say was 'again?'.

But she really didn't care at that moment because she couldn't stop shaking and she was aware that her vision was blurring around the edges.

She didn't understand. She didn't get it. Why was this happening? How could she stop it?

Maria was still talking, though none of it really reached the redhead's consciousness. She could vaguely make out the other woman telling her she had to eat or they'd have to get the doctor involved and she'd need monitoring or special drinks, whatever that meant.

Natasha was too focused on trying to force air down a throat that felt pinhole small and on trying to rub away the black crowding her vision with her fists.

She had to do something. She had to get them out. She had to.

They were her family. Her responsibility.

It soon became clear that Natasha wouldn't be able to start doing that for a while at least because no matter how hard she rubbed at her eyes the black only grew.

_Fuck._

Natasha reached out blindly as her ears rang, as her body continued to shake and shake and her vision continued to get darker.

She was only slightly aware that she was falling forward in her seat and she wasn't conscious by the time she hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Maybe leave me a comment and tell me what you thought :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW'S: eating disorders, talk of feeding tubes etc and mentions of self harm

When Natasha woke up, it was to a rhythamtic beeping coming from beside her head.

Her eyes felt dry and sticky as she forced them open, finding herself looking up at a white ceiling.

She didn't exactly remember what had happened but she woke up in Shield medical often enough that she wasn't too concerned.

She closed her eyes, wanting to drift back to sleep, when she remembered.

Natasha sat bolt upright, eyes wildly looking around the room. It wasn't Shield.

"Natalie?" A voice murmured from her left and Natasha, stunned and confused, looked over at the woman sitting next to her in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs.

Frowning, Natasha slid her gaze from Maria, to the machine now beeping way faster, and to the thin tube going from a bag high up and disappearing under the blankets. Flexing her fingers, Natasha winced. Yeah that tube definitely went into her hand.

"Natalie?" Maria asked again and Natasha forced her aching head to turn once more.

She felt dizzy and vaguely sick as she recalled what had brought her there. Bruce had been sedated and taken away and she'd been sitting talking to Maria? Had Bruce accidentally hurt with the chair? She didn't remember pain, just dizziness, but she had to have been hurt.

Realizing she still hadn't said anything, Natasha cleared her throat, wincing a little at the dryness there. How long had she been out?

"What's uh...what's happening?" She asked quietly.

"You passed out." Maria said softly, hands clasped in her lap. "I stopped you from hitting the floor too hard but you're going to have some bruises."

Natasha shrugged. Bruises were nothing. "Was it Bruce? Did he hit me with that chair?" She knew adrenaline and shock could do a lot of crazy things.

"Bruce? Natalie, the chair didn't touch you." Maria explained carefully. "Sure, I imagine the shock didn't help, but you passed out because you're dehydrated and you haven't been eating." The unspoken 'again' hung in the air.

Natasha frowned. Yeah, she hadn't eaten or drank because she knew that's how whoever had them trapped could be keeping them there, could be controlling them.

"Okay?" She blinked, "I mean isn't it my body? Shouldn't I be in control of it?" 

Maria brows pulled together for just a moment. "Nat, you're sick. If you keep doing this, you're not going to get better." She said softly.

Natasha was pretty much done with the whole fucking situation. She didn't have a fucking eating disorder, she wasn't cutting herself, this was just some fucked up trick.

Hey, maybe she'd nearly been killed on a mission and this was her brain's last hurrah before shutting down completely. Even that would make more sense than what everyone else was trying to tell her.

"Except I'm not sick. I know I'm not sick, you know, Coulson knows, Bucky knows. I didn't eat the food because it would probably wipe my memory again and that's likely what happened to make me forget in the first place. It's the logical thing to do, it doesn't make me crazy." Natasha picked absently at the bandage around her wrist.

She was still bone tired and she couldn't control the shaking of her body. She wanted to sleep and wake up to find she'd just had the worst fucking nightmare ever.

"Natalie, who do you think is wiping your memory?" Maria asked quietly.

Natasha shrugged. It wasn't really the who that bothered her, it was the how the hell do I stop it that occupied her thoughts.

As she continued to pluck little fibres from the bandage, she became suddenly aware of a very pressing problem.

Sure, she'd avoided food and drink and the meds but she'd woken up with a needle in her arm and mysterious liquid trickling into her veins.

She froze, the little colour she'd recovered draining from her face.

Needles and IV's were literally Villain 101. How to subdue and wipe a person.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Her avoiding all that at the hospital had brought her here, right into the hands of a maniac who now had control over her via the IV.

Suddenly incredibly suspicious of Maria, who had been there when she'd passed out and apparently when they'd started drugging her, Natasha tucked her arms under the blanket. 

She very slowly, using minimal hand movements, slid the needle out from the back of her hand.

"Why are you here?" Natasha asked, an edge to her voice.

"Because a member of staff needs to accompany any patient should they need hospital treatment." Maria said calmly. "And I was already there when you got sick, like I was here last time, so it made sense."

Yeah, made sense. Made sense that whoever was doing this would control someone close to her into drugging her.

She was immediately suspicious of new faces but she let her guard down around her friends and they or him or her or whoever was fucking with them knew that.

"I want to leave." Natasha said flatly.

"You can't leave until the round of meds is finished and you're checked out again." Maria said, a slight exasperation to her tone, as if she'd already said that multiple times. Who knew, maybe she had. Maybe every two weeks she was wiped again. Maybe it was fucking hospital groundhog day and she'd pissed off some sort of God.

"I want someone else to sit with me." Natasha lifted her head. She couldn't trust Maria. She probably couldn't trust anyone.

"Afraid that's not possible. You're stuck with me for the time being." Maria hummed. "Water?"

"No." Natasha said simply before leaning back against the pillows, staring at the wall opposite the bed.

"Natalie, you can't avoid this forever. You know what will happen." Maria said quietly. "Did something happen to cause it this time? You seemed to be doing better."

"I don't really have any interest in repeating myself." Natasha murmured, not looking away from the wall. "I told you why I didn't eat so you can do what you want with it."

Maria sighed softly and poured a glass off water out of the jug beside her anyway. "Would it help if I drank some first?"

Natasha flicked her gaze over for a moment. She couldn't think of any of them as friends. They could all be being controlled into sabotaging her. 

After all, her closest friend in The Red Room had been wiped once and had turned on her from then out and this seemed far more sophisticated. 

"Not especially." Natasha replied coolly.

"Nat, if this happens again, you do know that we won't have any choice but to extend the court order and keep you longer? Not only that, you'll probably have to have a feeding tube and that's not going to be any good for you." 

"I'd like to see them try." Natasha muttered, anger stirring on her stomach. How dare they do this to her, to her friends. 

Maria sighed and placed the cup on the table, leaning back in her seat. "You need to realize what the lesser of the two evils here are. You can have control of your food and drink or the doctors can control it for you, down to the last detail."

And sure, that might have made sense if Natasha didn't know that either way, the control was out of her hands.

They sat in silence for an indeterminate amount of time until the clicking of heels and the door to the room opening pulled Natasha from her thoughts.

The person there made her freeze in her spot as her mouth slid open. The heart monitor beeped faster and faster as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

The person in front of her...she hadn't seen for at least twenty years. The face was older and lined but it was easy for Natasha to recognise them.

Breaths catching in her throat, Natasha whispered, "mama?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's been a while. Sorry! Moving house and chronic illnesses will do that to ya. I hope you like this chapter! Don't worry, it's gonna get much more exciting soon.
> 
> TW's: more mentions of self harm and eating disorders and past suicide attempt talk plus general medical stuff 
> 
> Malyshka - baby (in Russian)

Natasha had to be going crazy. Or again, her dying brain was seriously having some fucking fun.

Because sure, a villain could come up with new people for her to see, could come up with her friends but surely, surely, they couldn't come up with a face that only Natasha knew. Not only that, but until that very moment, she hadn't even remembered what her mother's face looked like.

She couldn't breathe. 

Wide eyes watched as the woman...as her _mother_ approached the bed.

"Oh malyshka." The woman breathed, looking upset but not exactly surprised at all. She placed the carrier bag she was holding down and moved closer.

Natasha was so frozen she couldn't even begin to try and move her head as the woman bent and pressed a kiss to the redhead's temple.

She smelled the same. Fucking hell. Up until that very moment, Natasha hadn't remembered what her mother smelled like but as soon as the woman leant over her, she was taken aback by how strong the memories flooding her brain were.

She really was losing it. 

The woman pulled a chair up to the bed, slightly shaky fingers reaching to push red hair from Natasha's eyes. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly. 

Natasha felt sick. She looked from her mother to Maria and back again. 

She was at once overwhelmed, waves crashing over her head as she tried to piece scrambled thoughts and hazy memories together.

She exhaled shakily, fingers clawing at the bed covers.

She couldn't do it. She fucking couldn't. She didn't understand anything and now they'd dragged her maybe-not-dead mother into it and Natasha was absolutely fucking done with the day, with everyone around her, with even being awake.

Knowing she couldn't actually fall asleep in case something happened to her, but also knowing there was no way she could sit there and chat with her 'mother', Natasha lay down.

She kept her back to the new woman, because Maria seemed like the bigger threat. She forced her eyes to close, going against every survival instinct she had, made sure the fact the IV was out was hidden, and pretended to sleep.

Natasha didn't cry a lot, not really, but boy did she want to right then. 

With each passing minute things got more confusing, more uncertain, more mind-fucking.

She had two options and neither of them were good ones. She was crazy or she was in a shit ton of trouble-either literally dying or captured by someone real fucking bad.

Jesus, she just wanted it to be over already and she'd only been awake for half a day (that she remembered anyway).

Apparently whether she was crazy or captured, she did a good job of pretending to be asleep.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, Natasha's mother spoke softly to Maria. "I thought she was getting better." Her tone was both sad and resigned.

"She was." Maria answered. There was a small clattering and what sounded like water being poured. "We're not entirely sure what happened, yesterday seemed like a good day until the evening. She painted in class and took a walk in the garden with a few other's. She ate dinner and went to her room. When James went to do the checks, he found her under the shower." There was no need to say what had happened, Natasha's arm burned with the evidence.

Her mother exhaled and there was a soft little sniffle. "After dinner, did she..."

"We didn't think she'd thrown up but the fact we're here probably means she did." Maria sounded empathetic. It was weird how much people could lie and hide.

Without warning, fingers began to stroke through Natasha's tangled hair. Another shaky breath came from behind her.

"This is what happened last time." Her mother whispered. "The not eating, the cutting, blanking out and missing time and then..."

Natasha was suddenly intrigued to what her apparent 'big trauma' had been. It seemed pretty obvious that they were saying she'd tried to kill herself. She wondered how she'd tried to do that, if she even had (because again, more than one option).

Man, her head really hurt.

Everyone lulled into silence then, everything quiet apart from what Natasha could tell was someone tapping on a phone and someone flipping through a book or magazine.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Natasha at once pretended to wake up, not willing to let herself be taken off guard by a new person.

Opening her eyes, Natasha feigned tiredness as she rubbed her face and lifted her head up.

It was a new person, though clearly a doctor. Or, clearly wearing a good approximation of a doctor's outfit.

"Hi there, Natalie, my name's Doctor Harper, it's nice to see you awake." His eyes scanned the little clipboard attached to the bottom of the bed before noting down something the monitors showed him.

He came closer to Natasha then and her hand clenched around the IV lead she'd pulled out in case he tried to pull the blanket away from her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Natasha stared at him, keeping her expression neutral. "I feel fine."

"Well that's good to hear. When you came in you were running a little fever so I just want to check the wound on your arm and clean it, okay?"

Natasha swallowed, eyes darting nervously around the room. 

"Would you ladies mind stepping out just for a moment?" The doctor looked between the other two women.

Natasha locked eyes with Maria, sure her expression was one of fear. Dammit, she needed to control her reactions better, she was a spy for fucks sake.

Maria may have been a potential threat but she was a _familiar_ threat and this doctor was not.

"I'll need to stay." Maria said fluidly. "I can step away but I really do need to remain inside because of the supervision she's on."

Natasha wasn't sure if that was true at all and unease settled in her stomach. That was something her friend would have done so the redhead was left confused. Either Maria really did have to stay or she'd lied. Either for Natasha's benefit or for another reason.

Her mother offered a smile and squeezed Natasha's shoulder. "I'll be right here when you're done."

Once the woman left and the doctor began to pull on gloves, Natasha quickly executed the plan swirling in her head. 

The IV had been in her uninjured arm but to move the blanket she would need to use that arm. So, to trick them into thinking the needle had stayed in the whole time, Natasha quickly dug her nail into the little hole the needle had left. The blood had dried during her 'nap' so now it was bleeding fresh so it would appear new.

Next, she lifted her arm and went to move the blanket. As she jerked her uninjured arm up to get it out, she gasped, "ow, fuck!" She cursed, cradling her slightly bloody hand with her other.

The doctor hissed softly, "did you catch the IV?" He asked sympathetically.

Natasha nodded, rubbing at the blood with a soft wince. "I forgot it was there, I'm sorry." She murmured.

"That's okay, we we're probably good to take it out anyway. Here, let me put a bandaid over it." He offered out his hand.

Natasha's mind went into overdrive as she imagined every little way they could control her. Poison on the bandaid?

But it wasn't as if she could resist, she would just have to take it off as soon as possible.

After cleaning the back of her hand and pressed a bandaid over the mark, the doctor moved onto her arm.

Natasha noticed that the skin was a little red but she also knew that was from use of her arm and not infection. The fever was likely just because she was rundown.

Surely for her to know that must mean she wasn't just crazy? Would anyone not trained in some sort of medical field know that? Or did she know that because she'd had to complete minor medical training to go on missions?

The doctor, unsurprisingly, came to the same conclusion. After cleaning a few spots of dry blood and wrapping her arm back up, the doctor stepped back and peeled off his gloves. He checked her vitals by hand, writing more on his chart before stepping back from the bed.

"Everything's looking good, Natalie." He looked over at Maria. "Can you guys prescribe Advil? It'll help with the fever and any inflammation in the wound."

Maria nodded, "We can do that ourselves, yeah."

"Okay, then it looks like you're all set, I'll get the nurse to bring your discharge papers to the front desk." The doctor smiled at Natasha. "If the fever gets any worse or you feel dizzy again, I advise you to come back. You may just need a longer course of IV fluid."

Yeah, as if Natasha was going to tell anyone either of those things had happened and willingly subject herself to a potential poison.

She didn't voice that though, just nodding and sliding her legs off the bed. She was still in those yellow pyjamas except now she didn't have anything but socks on her feet. 

Maria saw where she was looking and bent to pull her slippers out from the cupboard beside her. 

Natasha muttered out a thank you and slid her feet into them. Shivering a little without the blanket, she rubbed absently at her arms.

"Let's get you back." Maria said softly, picking the blanket up off the bed and wrapping it around the redhead's shoulders.

"They won't miss it." She hummed, winking.

Again, Natasha found herself desperately confused because Maria had seemed so familiar with her in that moment and yet so distant when she'd given her meds earlier in the day. It was as if recognition without memories came in waves for Maria and Natasha was sick of the whiplash between familiarity and distance already.

She really wanted her friends back. She wanted to watch shitty films, eat non-poisoned snacks, put her feet up on Clint's lap as the team bantered and laughed around her.

She wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading illllyyy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW's: blood, hallucinations (or are they real? ;) )

The next week passed in both the blink of an eye and what felt like a century. It was hazy and also incredibly clear. Quiet and loud.

Natasha was caught between being on edge constantly and finding herself inexplicably relaxing into her surroundings.

She had to think before speaking, before acting, always watching everyone around her.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop was agony. Waiting for her mind to be wiped, for her to forget everything and wake up new, blank, a shell.

She'd been deep undercover many times, at least she thought she had been? She was still very much confused when it came to the circumstances surrounding her hospital stay, or lack thereof.

Anyway, Natasha thought she had been undercover many times before. She slipped into it with ease. Sometimes pretending to be someone else was easier than being herself.

She hadn't outwardly changed herself too much. It happened slower, small changes spread over days.

Engaging with the staff more, with the patients more, nibbling at food instead of just throwing it away, going to all the classes offered.

Slowly, she began to decrease the amount of times she questioned why she was there, the amount of times she mentioned being wiped or held against her will.

She worked particularly with Bucky and Maria, trying to win them over, trying to act as though her meds were working and she was finally realising she needed to be there and that she was ill.

She'd tried again to talk to Clint, to engage with him, trying to figure out how deep the whole thing went. But Clint never broke his stride during his story. They were training for the circus, this was the camp they went to before they were able to do shows. The staff were the leaders, making them take meds, making sure they didn't run.

Natasha knew how Hawkeye had begun, she knew where he was trapped in his mind and why. The story sounded wild to anyone else, but then again so did Natasha's. 

Even though the pair didn't agree on a single thing that was happening, Natasha wanted Clint's company no matter what. They'd taken to sitting in the rec room, maybe playing on the foosball table or watching shitty TV. 

Despite how wrong everything felt, being with Clint still felt right. 

She couldn't say the same for most of the team. She hadn't seen Steve apart from when Bucky took him to art group and then back to his room. She was yet to see Thor, which left Natasha feeling very uneasy. Where was he?

Bruce and Tony were always quiet when Natasha saw them. Bruce often sat alone, holding on to some sort of comfort item, maybe crying. Tony was...she couldn't explain how Tony was. If he wasn't running around, full of energy and taking part in every single group possible, he was often laying in the garden, sleeping or lethargically spooning food in the dining room.

During her ‘stake outs’, AKA sitting in the same room as members of her team and watching them for as long as she could manage without getting unbearably sad, she noticed small bits and pieces of the families personality, of the feelings they dealt with. Everything was just heightened, compared to how she remembered.

Bruce’s anger was uncontrollable, his sadness overwhelming, Tony’s hyper moments turned into mania, his anxiety debilitating. 

Natasha had been collecting as much information as could, but it was difficult when no one else had their memories back, when most of her friends didn’t even remember her. She’d tried multiple times to sneak into the main office, getting caught at the door everytime so quickly she had to struggle to come up with excuses.

As the days wore on, it was getting harder and harder for Natasha. She barely slept, only giving in when her body absolutely could not stay up anymore. She either nibbled tiny pieces of food or hid it and threw it away so consequently, got dizzy and lightheaded easy. When that happened, she hid in her room, unwilling to end up in hospital again.

Natasha’s world had gone from vast to tiny. She’d gone from travelling the world, living in a massive tower, to a few rooms and a tiny garden. She was going stir crazy, but then, the people who had done that to them would have known that.

She found herself contradicting her own thoughts often, a sign that she had been in that place for too long. Logic and gut feelings warred against one another and she was always angry at herself when her thoughts tried to reason with her. Tried to tell her that the fact she was ill was the most logical, that if she took the meds properly, she would feel better and her confusion would disappear. She could get out of there.

But those thoughts didn’t sound like her and Natasha found that it was hard to trust even herself.

She’d taken to laying in the bed in her shared room, staring up at the ceiling, trying to block out every single thought from her head. She just needed a few moments of quiet, a few moments without her thoughts battling each other. 

Natasha was so fucking tired.

A knock at the door before it was pushed open roused the woman from her failed meditation attempt. Heaving a big sigh, Natasha pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to act as though that movement hadn’t made her ears ring and her vision blur. 

“Time for your session, Natalie.” Phil said from the doorway, wearing an easy smile. As the woman stood and slowly slid her feet into her slippers, Phil gestured towards the hall. “Maria said you’d requested her presence today?”

Natasha swallowed, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. She gave no other answer apart from a small grunt and a ‘yeah’.

Phil watched her out the corner of his eye for a moment. “She’s just running a little behind so we’ll get you settled first.”

Natasha only gave a silent nod of her head as her and Phil headed, in a very awkward silence, to the doctor’s office. She had no idea what to expect, what to say, how to act. She was just going to have to give the doctor what he wanted to hear and no more. Information was dangerous, and she couldn’t trust anyone.

Phil rapped his knuckles against the door and after a ‘come in’ came from inside, he pushed it open and held it for Natasha.

As hazy as she was, the redhead didn’t notice who the doctor was just by his voice, but as she shuffled into the room and saw him, her stomach dropped and her heart leapt into her throat.

Nick.

Oh fuck fuck fuck.

Of course, Bucky had said Fury was her doctor, but somehow seeing him there was more jarring than any of her friends she'd found so far.

“Morning Natalie,” he said evenly, pointing towards a few scattered chairs, “take a seat wherever you feel comfortable.”

She didn’t feel fucking comfortable anywhere.

Regardless, she took a seat towards the corner of the room, pulling her legs up onto the seat so she could cross them.

Phil and Nick exchanged a look and Phil slid out the room.

“How are you feeling today?” Fury asked her, his voice perfectly pleasant and nothing like his usual tone. She didn’t think Nick Fury had ever asked anyone how they felt.

“Fine.” Natasha ground out, realizing quickly she needed to make it more believable. “Fuzzy. The meds make me tired.”

“Once you have enough in your system, we can look at dosages.” Nick nodded, adding a note into his book. “Any other side effects?”

Okay, Romanoff, time to act your ass off.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands, fiddling with them before offering a one shouldered shrug. “I don’t know. They don’t exactly make me feel great. My mouth is always dry, I can’t concentrate properly, my hands shake.”

“That’s understandable. Any new medication is going to be difficult at first, we’ll arrange a med review in the next week. How is-” Fury was cut off by yet another knock at the door, this time it was Maria.

Natasha hadn’t asked the woman to sit in for comfort, she had done it so she could convince two people at once that she was ‘getting better’, or at least that her delusions or whatever were diminishing. 

Maria offered a smile as she took a seat a little further away from the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Not at all.” Nick hummed, “alright, Natalie, are you okay to start?”

Well, here went nothing.

…

The questions asked were intrusive but easy to answer. Yes, she was eating more. No, she hadn’t hurt herself. No, she hadn’t thought about suicide. Yes, she was still confused but no, she didn’t think someone was wiping her memory anymore. No, she didn’t remember the reason why she was in hospital, yes of course she knew her mother wasn’t dead. 

It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be to come up with the answers, words came out of her mouth but her mind drifted elsewhere.

Everything had been fine, had been going good, Maria and Nick were believing her and the session was close to finishing. But then she saw the blood.

Immediately halting in whatever she’d been saying, Natasha’s wide eyes focused on Fury’s face.

Blood dripped down his forehead, streaming into his eyes, down his mouth, creating pools on his clothes and on the floor. Shuddering, Natasha tried to pull in a breath but the sudden panic was overwhelming. 

Her terrified gaze swung to Maria’s face. She was also covered in blood, but this time her face was so beaten, Natasha would have struggled to understand who she was seeing had she not known.

Gasping, Natasha shoved her chair back, pressing her body against the wall, eyes scanning the room, preparing for attack.

Voices spoke to her, someone touched her shoulder.

She jerked sideways, grabbing the hand, twisting and using her body weight to throw the attacker to the ground.

A loud ringing filled her senses, but this time from alarms and not dizziness. They’d sounded the alarms and now back up would be coming.

Somebody grabbed for her, arms around her waist, trying to bring her to the floor. She wasn’t aware of how badly she was shaking, gasping, crying as weight pressed against her back, as she found herself pinned to the ground. 

She bucked desperately, trying to hit out, screams escaping her lips of their own volition.

“Natalie, breathe, you’re okay-“ A female voice entered her head and she lifted her eyes up to the woman. Maria.

She was holding her wrist. “You’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe, just focus on me.” 

“Can’t you see the blood?” Natasha choked out, barely able to breathe, gasping so hard her chest burned. “They’re coming to get me-“ And with that, Natasha was fighting again., screaming and kicking out with all her strength. 

She made it out from underneath the person holding her, only to stopped less than a second later by more bodies. 

She was pulled to the ground once more, kicking the whole way down.

Something sharp slid into her hip, cold spreading through her body. 

With a panicked sob, face wet with tears, Natasha sunk into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this so far :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey heyyyyy
> 
> little short and more of a filler chapter as we prepare for more angst and confusion coming up
> 
> I hope you enjoy this trainwreck!
> 
> tw's for mild injury and vaguely threatening dreams

Natasha dreamed.

She dreamt of colours- bright red, army green, deep purple. She dreamt of the sky, of gray buildings climbing towards the clouds, of names across towers and birds across walls. She dreamt of faces, shrouded in darkness, pale eyes following her no matter how she tried to run from them. She dreamt of voices, sickeningly sweet or harshly brutal. She dreamt of flashing lights, screams in the dark, her name being called.

Except it wasn’t her name. Her name was Natasha, wasn’t it? Or maybe the voices were right and it was time she gave into them. Maybe she wasn’t Natasha or Natalie, maybe she was someone else, someone new, someone different. Maybe she wasn’t even real at all.

The voices called her name again. Recognition and understanding wasn’t fast or slow, it just was. She wasn’t dreaming her name, she was waking up to it in the real world. If it was the real world. Maybe she was just in a dream in a dream in a dream, and she just kept waking to yet another level, unending dreams becoming her entire lifetime.

“It’s time to wake up, little red.”

Natasha opened her eyes.

Her brain felt like mush as she forced herself to blink, trying to will away the blurriness of her vision. Her body felt heavy- lethargic and numb and far too much effort to move. Her mouth was dry. She tried to clear her throat but ended up not being able to do much more than let out a weak attempt at a cough.

“Easy, Nat, take it slow.” A voice murmured, achingly soft, coming from her left side.

Bucky.

Slowly, Natasha tilted her head to the side, blinking at the man. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, which she realized after a few minutes, was also her position. There was something underneath her that was too uncomfortable to be a bed but too comfortable to be the floor.

As feeling began to come back to her limbs, Natasha lifted her head up and scanned the room. She hadn’t been in there before, but it was likely where Bruce had been taken after he’d been sedated. The room was empty apart from whatever she was laying on. It felt like a pool float, but was more likely just some sort of plastic mattress. 

Bucky followed her gaze around the room, clearly letting her orientate herself before speaking again. “Here,” He said quietly, holding out a paper cup of water to her.

Her shaking fingers wrapped around it as she slowly shuffled into a sitting position. “Thanks.” She mumbled absently, much too thirsty to remember she was breaking her rule of drinking a whole cup of something given to her. 

As soon as she had finished, Bucky took the cup from her, crumpling it and sliding it into his pocket. It was easy for Natasha to understand that she wasn’t allowed to hold onto it in case she tried to use it for something nefarious. That was fair, she’d hurt people with less than a paper cup.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked, a picture that screamed ‘I’m not a threat’. 

“Tired.” Natasha murmured, rubbing at the back of her neck and experimentally rolling her shoulders. Yeah, that was gonna hurt later on. 

“You’ll probably be sore for a while, we can grab you some pain meds if you need them.” 

Natasha shook her head, rubbing up and down her arm absently. It was only as she brushed over a particularly tender spot that she looked down. A frown crossed the woman’s face as she brought her other arm into her line of vision too.

Her skin was bruised. And not just in a ‘I’m clumsy and fell over’ kinda way, but in a ‘somebody was grabbing me and not letting go’ kinda way. 

Brows pulled together, Natasha looked up at Bucky, not saying anything but clearly questioning what had happened. Bucky looked slightly uncomfortable, and that was less than reassuring. 

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked quietly.

Natasha examined the fingers of her right hand, counting the flecks of blood and lightly bruised knuckles. She’d been fighting, that much was obvious. But fighting with who? Sure the situation pissed her off but it hadn’t pissed her off to the point where she would start hurting her friends, even if they didn’t remember they were even friends.

“Who?” She asked quietly, a tremor in her voice as she lifted her gaze. 

The man looked conflicted. He swallowed and clasped his hands together. That was when a sudden realization hit Natasha like a freight train. She should have noticed before, seen before, how had she not?

Bucky’s metal arm was gone. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have two arms because somehow he did, they were just two flesh…regular old arms, with a dark tattoo winding up his shoulder, stopping at the spot the metal arm connected with skin.

What the fuck?

It was funny how that, out of everything she’d seen, terrified the shit out of her the most.

If The Red Room, Shield, The Avengers didn’t exist and she was truly in hospital, why the fuck would she give someone a metal fucking arm? Literally why would she ever ever ever imagine someone having not only a missing appendage, but one made of goddamn metal???

Natasha could tell Bucky was talking to her, but her mind was going too quickly to focus. It was as if now she’d realized that, other confusing thoughts came rushing in.

It wasn’t just Bucky’s arm. 

Sure, imagining superheros could make sense with what trauma she’d dealt with in her life. She wanted to feel strong, wanted to be a part of a group that helped save people. Even The Hulk made sense- her panicked mind turning the anger into a monster to shield herself. She wasn’t unaware that the things she thought would make sense if she were to consider a psychiatrists point of view. That her friends and spy life could be explained away by neuroses and mental disorders but…

But also she’d realized that Clint…Clint didn’t have hearing aids. He could hear her across the room, didn’t need to use sign language if his ears hurt too much. His hearing was fine so again, came the same question- why?

Why would she make up someone being deaf? That seemed like an asshole kinda thing to do, same with imagining someone missing a fucking arm. Why would she do that? Would she do that?

“Natasha?”

The name cut through the noise in Natasha’s head. Her thoughts went from chaotic to silent, to numb.

“What did you call me?” Natasha just about managed to choke out, green eyes filled with emotion as she stared into Bucky’s own eyes.

The smallest frown ever descended on the man’s face, his nose scrunching up in such a familiar way that Natasha’s heart thudded in her chest. “Bucky?” She whispered.

The strangest expression crossed Bucky’s features, eyes lighting for just a second before his face smoothed and he cleared his throat. “I called you, Natalie? Are you okay?”

He hadn’t. He fucking hadn’t called her that, she was sure of it, she knew it in her heart. It could have been her imagination, wishful thinking. It could have been an accident, maybe they had another patient with that name. But Natasha didn’t think so.

Bucky had called her Natasha. And once more she was pulled back over the line in the middle of the two possibilities.

The hospital wasn’t real. And she had to figure out how to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORRRRRRRRRRRRR was it just the wishful thinking of an exhausted woman??? Who knows :)
> 
> leave a comment maybe? please? thanks for reading! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, hope you're all keeping safe. There's a chance isolation might force me to write more it might go the other way, not sure, but thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> a few tw's for this new chapter: blood, suicide attempt, past physical abuse (cause the red room sucks ass), violence and again, a suicide attempt so be careful lovelies

Bucky and Natasha sat in a fairly uncomfortable silence for god knows how long, it’s not like they could have been helpful and left a clock in the room because why would they. There was the mattress Natasha was laying on and literally nothing else at all.

The redhead had been expecting Bucky to leave in the minutes that followed her waking up but it soon became clear, though no one had said it out loud, that she wasn’t allowed to be on her own. She was a danger, not to herself anymore, but to others. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there was another person standing just outside the room in case.

Which was fucking brilliant. Because she didn’t have time alone to try and process her thoughts, to pace and think out loud and curl under a blanket until it all stopped hurting so much.

Not only that, but she was forced to look at her friend, with none of the familiarity or kinship she was used to. Had to watch him not remember anything, had to listen to him call her a name that had only ever been pretend.

She spent the time staring at her bruised knuckles, trying to remember the incident. She couldn’t. She was missing time again, anything after Maria had entered the room until waking up on the floor was gone completely. Bucky still hadn’t told her who she’d fought, but it was fairly obvious. Maria, possibly Nick too.

The guilt was overwhelming.

As she stared at the blood underneath her nails, she became aware of a pressing and embarrassing issue. She had to use the bathroom and now the question on her mind was if she would be allowed to do that small task on her own. And when the hell could she get out of that depressing fucking room.

Finally lifting her gaze, Natasha said quietly, “I need the bathroom. Am I allowed to go or do I need to do it here with everyone watching?” Her tone was ice, cold and dismissive. Caring too much in that place had only brought her pain.

To an outsider, Bucky’s face didn’t change all that much, but she could see the slight twist of his lips and furrow in his brows. “Of course you can go.” He said quietly. “You’re not here for a punishment, Natalie, you know that, right?”

Because being trapped in a dingy room on constant watch wasn’t a punishment? Yeah, sure. Just like getting whipped in The Red Room hadn’t been a punishment.   
Natasha didn’t reply, but she made it clear by her expression that she didn’t believe it for a second.

Bucky exhaled, uncrossed his legs and stood up.

Natasha did the same, blinking and rubbing at her eyes at yet another wave of dizziness. She must have winced because then there was a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Easy, Nat, you’ll feel groggy for a little while.” Bucky said softly, releasing her arm once it seemed like Natasha could support herself.

She wouldn’t go as far to say that the trip to the bathroom was the worst experience she’d ever had, but it certainly wasn’t a barrel of fun. She wasn’t allowed to close the door, had to leave a tiny gap in it, and Bucky stood right outside, back to the door.

As she went, she took a moment to rest her head in her hands, rubbing at the pain in her temples. What a fucking mess.

“Nat, you okay?” Came the voice from outside.

“Am I seriously not even allowed a fucking minute?” She snapped back, anger rising in her so suddenly she felt nauseous. 

Bucky was only doing what he had to do, or at least what he thought he had to do, but Natasha couldn’t contain how fucking pissed off she was.

After washing her hands, she shoved at the door. She looked at Bucky, and a female worker over by the sitting area, not so subtly watching her right back. So she clearly was on 2-1. Awesome.

Deciding that she was going to do whatever she wanted, and that Bucky could forcibly stop her if he felt so inclined, she headed straight for the corridor that led to the female rooms.

Once at her own, she didn’t even look back at the figures, just pulled back the blanket, crawled into bed, and closed her eyes.

…

That was where Natalie stayed for the next three days.

She left her bed for the bathroom and that was it. Someone brought her food at every meal time but more often than not, it remained untouched.

There was a steady stream of different people sitting in the room with her. Maria was not one of them, so Natalie figured she wasn’t allowed to see her anymore after what had gone down in the doctor’s office.

Her roommate had yet to return, and it was easy to figure out that no, the woman had not been discharged, she’d been moved somewhere else, probably for her safety or whatever.

Natalie slept a lot. Every time she woke, there was someone sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. She didn’t have the two people anymore, just one, but that was enough to drive the woman crazy by itself.

Sometimes sleeping was an escape, sometimes it wasn’t. She had nightmares at least once a day. In a lot of them, she was fighting unknown people shrouded in black. Sometimes she fought herself, staring into black eyes that didn’t even look like hers but still were.

She had a lot of nightmares including her ‘friends’. Some didn’t begin like nightmares, she would be sitting around with them all and it would go on happily for a while until inevitably, something went wrong. It would end with her hurting them, with them hurting her, with blood and fights and death and she would wake screaming or sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

On the third day, she awoke to find Phil sitting in the chair, flicking through an old comic book she vaguely recognised. She’d woken gasping, covered in sweat and tangled in the covers. 

She decided then and there that she couldn’t fucking handle it anymore. Natalie ripped the covers off herself and moved quickly towards the door. Phil followed.

The woman had no place in mind, no idea in her head, she just needed out that room, out that bed, she needed something. Anything.

Natalie wanted out. She was well and truly fucking done with everything and without any presence of mind, she ended up close to the hallway where the doors to the outside world sat.

“Natalie…” Phil’s voice warned behind her, already able to picture what was about to happen. 

She was just reaching towards the door, fingers nearly touching the handle when she heard it.

A low moan, a choked sob, shuffling.

Immediately pulling back from the handle, Natalie turned. Not only was Phil there, but Bucky too. They were both watching her carefully and were coiled tight and ready to block her way to the doors. They were locked, she couldn’t get out anyway, but they were definitely prepared for her to do something.

Natalie’s heart began to race as she tilted her head to try and find the direction of the troubling noises, she began to walk back towards the common area. The place was empty, she didn’t see anyone, certainly not anyone who could be making those noises.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered, looking across at Bucky. She always had had brilliant hearing, her time in hospital hadn't taken that away from her at least.

“I didn’t-“ And then, coming from the art room, another sob, louder this time. The men definitely heard it and all three moved towards the closed door.

Bucky moved faster towards it, as Phil tried to get in Natasha’s way to stop her reaching the door too.

It didn’t matter. She slipped past him and got there just as Bucky did.

The door was pushed open and what Natalie saw didn’t even register for a good few seconds. Alarms were already blaring, people were already pushing past her but she stood frozen, eyes locked on the scene in front of her.

A figure on the ground and so much blood Natasha didn’t know how the person was still alive. He was whimpering softly, eyes half lidded and skin pale. He shuddered once before his eyes slipped shut and then somehow was grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her away from the doors.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

All she could see was bright red blood.

And Tony right in the middle of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it, lots of love <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyy
> 
> TW's are as usual my dudes except with the conscious thought and actions of self harm, instead of it being in the past or implied, so be careful
> 
> I'm super excited how this fic is going to turn out, I've dropped easter eggs throughout that will make sense soon (or will they), and I'm actually super proud of it, not gonna lie. I hope you enjoy this chapter :) thanks for reading as always!
> 
> Please excuse any errors, been kinda foggy lately <3

“Tony?” The woman half whispered, half moaned, trying to get to him, trying to help him, trying to get him to open his eyes. He had to open his eyes. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t, she couldn’t let him, she had to stop him. She had to stop it all. She had to fight, had to get out, had to get them all out. 

Her family, her job, her responsibility.

Somebody was pulling at her again and Natalie wasn’t even aware that she was screaming, clawing at the hands around her arms, trying to move, trying to get to him, to get to her friend.

The voice tried to speak to her and she could vaguely understand that he, the voice most likely belonged to Bucky, was telling her to breathe. Except it didn’t entirely sound like Bucky, but she’d seen Phil drop to knees, clamping his hand down on Tony’s arm, so it couldn’t have been him. Nobody else there would have said her name with such familiarity. 

Tony looked dead. 

She’d stepped in some of the blood. His blood. And though she’d been pulled too far away from the door to see her friend and the carnage of the room anymore, the image was engraved on her mind and always would be.

Her chest was so tight that Natalie felt like someone had her heart in their hands, squeezing and squeezing like a vice. She tried to take a normal breath to no avail, her lungs pinhole small. She was dizzy again, everything spinning around her.

“Breathe, Nat, just breathe.”

This had to be fake. It had to be. Why would she have such intense feelings, why would she be sobbing and trying to get to a man who had only spoken to her once, and that had been for the redhead to leave him alone. Why would she feel like her heart was breaking as she imagined Tony, completely still forever, if she didn’t know him well? 

“Nat?”

Why would she be filled with such unquenchable sadness and uncontrollable panic, agony coursing through her body, if she didn’t know Tony? If they weren’t friends, good friends, if they hadn’t spent years and years together, if they hadn’t fought together, ate together, watched movies together, cried together. 

Natalie knew him. She did. She had to. Because nothing else made sense. She wasn't crazy, she wasn't crazy, she wasn't crazy.

Right???

It hurt so bad, so fucking bad. She couldn’t carry on like that, she couldn’t continue living whatever life she’d been forced to live, regardless of what was right and wrong. She couldn’t do it, it hurt too much, she couldn’t. She had to get out.

“Please, Nat.”

“Tony-“ Natalie gasped, thoughts so hazy she couldn’t say anything else, just the broken whimper of her friends name. 

She wasn’t the only one trying to get a look at what was happening. Natalie lifted her head towards the door, expression broken, to find another person looking through the doors. No one was pulling him, probably because most were too focused on the man bleeding out across the floor. So the figure looked, and looked, and looked, and then stumbled backwards.

“Tony?”

Bruce’s face was ashen and he was shaking so hard he looked ready to keel over. His breaths came fast, his brows furrowed in the way he did when he was concentrating. His broken, confused gaze met Natalie’s for just a second before he was backing up as fast as his legs would carry him.

Natalie wished she could run away.

Even closing her eyes did nothing to stop the assault of images so violent and clashing that her brain felt like mush. Sliding her hands over her ears did nothing to stop the cries of Tony’s name entering her consciousness. Rocking her body backwards and forwards did nothing to stop the pain in her chest, did nothing to stop her veins filling with ice, did nothing to stop the fear and panic and agony inside her.

“Wake up.” Natalie whispered, one hand sliding into her hair, fingers wrapped around strands that she pulled. She needed pain, she needed physical pain, she needed the mental anguish to just stop so she could breathe for one fucking second, so she could think, she just needed to think. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

She didn’t even feel the pull of her hair so without full thought or control of her body, Natalie brought her other hand up and without pausing to think about the consequences, the woman hit herself full square in the head with her balled up fist. Her head flew to the side, and the pain followed milliseconds later. And she felt like she could breathe again.

She felt clearer. And now she understood why she’d cut herself, if it had even been her own choice. Clarity. A second to breathe. A moment of quiet.

Natalie needed more.

But hands had already wrapped around both of hers, keeping them from her head, and somebody was clearly speaking to her but she couldn’t listen. She had to block it out. She had to be clear, she needed quiet. She needed a way out, any way out, she needed to fix it.

She tried to hit herself again but something wrapped around her fingers before she could even lift them again, her name was said, an edge to it Natalie didn’t understand. Her nails dug into whatever held her but the grip around her wrists remained secure.

“Nat-“

Natalie’s hands were captured but she could vaguely feel something behind her back. 

It was time to get dangerous, to risk awful injury, long lasting damage. It was time to throw all her fucking caution to the wind and find a way out. Any way out. 

Either it was a person sitting behind her and they were both about to be hurt, or it was a wall. And that was exactly what she needed.

Natalie didn’t give a fuck how hurt she could get, didn’t care about the consequences. She didn’t know where ‘here’ was but she sure as shit knew she needed out of there.

She didn’t have to pretend that she was dropping her head because she was crying, because she was already crying, that was for sure. The grip didn’t loosen on her hands, but she was sure she could feel a brush of a finger over her wrist, a soft touch over her hair.

“Nat, please-“

Not willing to waste time on strange interactions, or she would never leave, Natalie readied herself.

When her chin touched her chest, the woman took two measured breaths, locked her body and suddenly threw her head backwards.

Pain exploded violently as her head connected with the wall. She could taste blood, but she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think.

Natalie sank into the dark in a way she had never welcomed it before.

…

She woke up somewhere new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger whoops :8 
> 
> is she injured in a hospital bed?????is she somewhere different????? I guess we'll find out soo. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the big (hopefully not disappointing) reveal.
> 
> I was going to originally write two chapters for this fic update but stuff happened yesterday and it was not great and I ended up not being able to. But I have a clear idea in my head and I know exactly where I'm going and I'm going to try my best to update asap.
> 
> TW's for a lil' med talk and injury stuff
> 
> I hope you guys like it, I'm kinda proud of this fic and the hints I dropped all the way through :)
> 
> Let's do it!!!

The world was quiet for a moment when Natasha woke up.

Opening her eyes seemed like an exponentially difficult task, she tried as hard as could but the lids felt heavy and her eyelashes felt like glue. Her body was frozen in place, invisible weights pressing down her limbs until she was half certain she’d never be able to move. Her nerves felt fried, pain firing around every inch of her, like the electric shocks she so often used against-

_Against who?_

Natasha’s mind was foggy, a veil covering anything more than surface level realizations about the (apparently pretty poor) state of her body. It was like treading water. If the water was actually quicksand, and she wasn’t treading, she was drowning.

_God, everything hurt_.

Why did everything hurt? Why couldn’t she open her eyes? Why did she feel like an exposed wire, all raw edges and barbs burrowing into her skin, into her brain, digging deeper and deeper until even breathing became difficult.

_Had someone been telling her to breathe?_

A clamp tightened around her chest, constricting and constricting until Natasha was overwhelmed with dread and the absolute certainty that she didn’t even remember how to breathe anymore. Her throat felt pinhole small, the clamp continued squeezing, pins and needles rushed around her body as she tried to get air.

_She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t-_

Something touched her.

It was warm. And suddenly Natasha was aware of how cold she was. _Was she shaking?_ She felt like she was shaking, ice settled deep into her bones, leeching all the warmth she’d once held. 

Thoughts scattered, brain hazy, her link to consciousness tenuous at best, it took far too long for Natasha to realize that it wasn’t just any old thing touching her, it was a hand. In the dark, panic building as blurry thoughts trickled in slowly, she began to remember.

And then, a rough voice, soft and pained, breaking with emotion, said, ”Nat?”

Natasha’s eyes snapped open and recollection and memories flooded back so quickly the woman’s head span and she felt like she was going to throw up.

She summoned the energy to meet the person’s gaze, cracked lips open with a frantic exhaled breath. Her voice was hoarse, almost gone, it hurt to speak but she managed, because she was looking up at someone she thought she’d not see alive again.

“Tony?”

…

All at once, Natasha could move. Feeling slammed back into her body and she lurched up from whatever she’d been laying on. She got stuck half way, something yanking her head back so hard, she felt strands of hair being pulled out.

Wide green eyes found Tony’s and the man very quickly reached over to rip whatever stopped her movement away. When Natasha was free and sitting, she twisted to find Tony holding the object in his hands; wires and electrodes and pieces of hair, splatters of blood. With a shaking hand, Natasha pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the indentations of the electrodes embedded in her skin.

Tony dropped the item like it had burned him and now sitting, Natasha could see the same circle marks littered the engineer’s forehead, some dipping over his cheeks, a few even at his jawline. They were red and raw and blood dotted the man’s paler than pale skin. 

He took a shaky step back, teeth gritted, eyes watery. Tony lifted his gaze to the woman, inhaling frantically, “Nat-“ He whispered again, brows orbs a myriad of emotions that Natasha couldn’t even begin to figure out.

“Tony.” Natasha croaked out, jumping off what she realized now was a flat board of metal, she could feel the bruises left by the hardness of the material. Her legs gave way as soon as her feet touched the floor and she went tumbling to the ground.

Hands wrapped around her shoulders, slowing her descent a little but not enough to stop both of their knees slamming into the concrete below them. Natasha barely felt the pain as she looked into her friend’s face. She was unashamed that tears were too building in her eyes.

She choked on a breath, her nails digging into the man’s arms of their own volition. She was definitely shaking, having trouble getting enough air. Tony had been dying. He’d been bleeding out across the floor, pale, eyes closed, heart stopping. 

“Tony.” She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut for just a second before she threw her arms around him. 

Tony’s arms were crushing around her as he pulled her to him and she answered in return, burrowing her face against his neck, hand on the back of his head, holding him as close as she could possibly get him. She never wanted to let go. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” The man whispered against her hair, arms tightening around her once more. “I tried, I didn’t think it would work, you were so still and it was like you couldn’t breathe, I thought you were dying.”

Realization hit the woman like a freight train.

“It was you.” She mumbled, pulling her face back just a little, so her already weak as fuck voice wouldn’t get muffled even more. “I thought it was Bucky but it didn’t sound right, I knew it was wrong. It was you, you were calling my name.” She pulled back further, hands cupping Tony’s cheeks. “You did it. You helped me wake up.”

Natasha felt oddly like smiling, despite everything. “I’m not crazy. It was real, it is real, I knew it.”

But then the giddy relief at having been right the whole time turned sour and her eyes grew wide with terror as she recalled Bucky’s name leaving her lips. 

“Where are the others?” She asked, horror clawing through her veins, pulse pounding in her ears. 

Tony swallowed, jaw clenched, he shook his head. “I don’t know.” His tone was mournful and the panic was palpable. “I…I woke up and when I could move, I did but I only saw you. I tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge so I tried to wake you up. Do you think…?”

As much as Natasha wanted to believe they were the only two captured, there wasn’t any way that was possible. Somehow, someone, something, had captured all the Avengers. And probably not just them, Natasha knew deep down in her stomach that Maria, Phil, Nick, maybe more of them.

It seemed impossible that someone had managed to capture 9, 10 if Thor was there, though she hadn’t seen him the entire time, of the worlds best and brightest. But Natasha knew her memories of her friends, her team, her family, in that hospital, in no way came from just her imagination. They were there, they were still trapped in that hell.

_Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth._

“They’re here.” Natasha said, voice firm. She set her jaw and let go of him. “We need to find them.”

Tony nodded, “can you stand?”

That was a good point. She hadn’t been able to before. “Guess we’ll find out.” She exhaled and rolled onto her knees, gritting her teeth, holding onto Tony as they very tentatively stood. Her legs were weak and shaky but she could more or less stand. 

“Okay.” Natasha rubbed at her temple, “let’s-“

She was bleeding.

A frown pulled at her lips, words dying on her lips as she took in the state of her arm. The cut there was big and jagged, reaching from her elbow to her wrist. It hadn’t been stitched like it had in the hospital, it was bleeding a little from use, and clearly infected. It looked like a knife wound, but a blunt one, not leaving a clean mark, but a twisting and rough one. 

She’d been right. She hadn’t done it. 

Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t just her arm that was wrong. Brows furrowed, she searched Tony, cataloguing bruises but nothing more, until she saw the tell-tale pinprick of a needle in the crook of his arm. 

She didn’t have that. 

_Why didn’t she have that?_

“Did you have an IV?” Natasha asked quietly.

Tony blinked, looking back at his metal ‘bed’ and the tube he’d pulled from his skin. “Yeah, I guess.”

Natasha felt uneasy. “Why didn’t I have one?” 

Was that why she was weak? It seemed like Tony had at least been given something, probably glucose or nutrients or something to stop his body from deteriorating. But she hadn’t had that. So that made it clear they were all being treated differently.

She’d thought that not eating or drinking much in the hospital had been her choice, had been her deciding to err on the side of caution and try not to get herself poisoned but maybe it hadn’t been her idea, or at least not all hers.

They’d been depriving her of the basic nutrients she needed to live. They’d been starving her body. What the fuck was this? What was going on?

“Nat?” Tony asked, and it was obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d said her name. 

_Okay, Romanoff, first things first, you can figure that out later._

First, they needed to find their team.

“Let’s go.” Natasha said firmly.

Tony swallowed and nodded. “Lead the way, little red.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I haven't made it clear enough Nat and Tony are just friends, just as everyone is just friends but seeing your friend after all of that shit is gonna make you want to hug the crap out of them. Lemme know what you thought! Hope it wasn't a letdown after all this time. Ily all <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI SORRY I KNOW IT'S BEEN A WHILE pls forgive me live is trash sometimes y'now??? enjoy!
> 
> ok so truth? this was not how I planned my fic going, like at all, I had so many choices written down and this wasn't even a thought. Until I sat down to write and it just...came to me. And it feels right, it feels best, and I'm glad I hadn't uploaded a new chapter because this fit so much better. 
> 
> tw's: blood, medical and injury stuff

As Natasha tried to work the door open (it should be pretty easy considering all the ‘gifts’ whoever captured them had left in the room), something else began to dawn on her. Her hands faltered on the door handle and she looked to her right. “Tony?”

Examining the spot of blood left by the IV, the engineer glanced up. “Yeah?”

“How did you wake up?” She asked thickly, feeling sick at just the vague memory of Tony bleeding out across the floor. “Because…because I saw it, Tone, saw you. And it wasn’t just me. Phil, Bucky, Bruce-“

“Bruce saw?” Tony winced, rubbing at his temples in the way he did when he’d been working at the computer too long. “I didn’t think…I thought that…since it wasn’t real anyway, no one there would see? And I would just wake up and be able to fix everything and it wouldn’t matter.” The man’s expression was one of guilt, hating that his best friend had seen that, especially after Bruce had even tried to…no, she couldn’t go there. His expression looked exactly like Natasha remembered, like nothing had changed, like they hadn't been apart for...weeks? Months?

Natasha’s head pounded and she felt sure the confusion would never leave. She was usually so sure of everything, sure of everything she did and now she felt just like the girl pulled from her family home once more. She felt like the girl who woke up in a strange room, with girls surrounding her, felt that sick, dizzying realization that everything had changed, that she would never know what was coming.

There were so so many things to be confused about, so Natasha tried to settle on the biggest things. Bucky’s lapse of her name, his metal arm erased, Clint’s hearing restored, Steve’s catatonia, Thor’s complete absence, her mother…they weren’t as pressing. 

What was pressing, to Natasha at least, as she tried to piece things together, seemed to all revolve around Tony. How he’d known it wasn’t real, how he’d known to hurt himself, how he wasn’t…

_Tony wasn’t hurt._ But he…his arm had been all but ripped open, the pool of blood around him had been far more than his body could have taken. He was dying, if it had been real, there would have been little chance of survival, Natasha knew that from experience. But he seemed unharmed, nearly unharmed, but he didn’t have a butchered arm and was very much alive. 

Natasha was all of a sudden shivering, goosebumps rising up on her arms, her chest tightening once more. She felt like she had upon first waking in the hospital; dizzy, off kilter, like she’d gone a few rounds on a rollercoaster, stomach clenching and threatening to revolt. She swallowed back the nausea and re-focused her attention on the door. She nearly had it.

She jammed a needle into the hole of the door handle, it wasn’t as useful as a bobby pin or pocket knife, but if she got it in just the right position, it should open. She had no doubt there would be more doors, it was strange enough that the room she was in didn’t have a keypad to unlock it. Did normal people even use regular locks anymore? 

Trying to push back the unease, she spoke to try and calm herself a little more. Clint always talked when he was nervous and it seemed to help him, so why not try? “Do you remember how you realized it wasn’t real?” She asked over her shoulder, sliding the needle around to jimmy the mechanism. 

“No.” Tony said quietly. “I guess I just did.” He shrugged. Wasn’t exactly an illuminating reveal, but she couldn’t blame him for forgetting or being confused, she sure as fuck was. 

“Why did you decide to…to do that? I know I did it because the pain helped me remember, I didn’t think it would end up with me waking up.” She sighed. “I guess I hoped that when I was out, I’d remember something else.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s why I did it too. Guess I went a little too far, but hey I’m here so I obviously wasn’t really hurt.”

Tony’s voice had an edge to it that Natasha didn’t understand, but that was quickly pushed out of her mind when the door clicked and began to swing open. Triumphant, the redhead grinned and hopped up to her feet, not even looking to see if Tony was following, of course he would.

As she stepped out into the dimly hit hallway, heading towards the room opposite, the door slammed shut behind her, loud enough that she jumped and span around. Her brows furrowed instantly, hackles rising, hair standing on edge. 

“Tony?” She whispered, looking up and down the hall to see if the man had gone ahead. He was nowhere to be seen. Cursing, hoping the door didn’t automatically lock again once closed, Natasha tiptoed back to their original room. She peered into the dusty marked window near the top of the door, standing as high as she could, pressing her face to the glass. He must have been a little slow, she thought, she’d just open the door again and then they would go find their friends. 

Except when she looked through the door, Tony wasn’t there. He wasn’t waiting for her, wasn’t by the glass, wasn’t even in the room. He was gone. She ripped the door open, stared in, searching, praying, begging. But nothing. He wasn't there. Tony was just gone.

Natasha span around, eyes searching every little space of the hallway, desperate to see that brown hair, just desperate in general and getting more so when Tony was nowhere to be found. He’d just…vanished. 

That sick, freezing cold feeling seeped into her bones as she whispered out a broken ‘no’ in the quiet of the hallway. He’d been right there, he’d been beside her, been talking to her, had touched her, he couldn’t be…

She heard noises.

They came from the room furthest from her and without actively wanting to, without telling her feet to move, she was headed there before she could stop herself. She was running, pulse pounding in her ears, tears building in her eyes. It was like her body knew, her mind knew, deep down, knew where she was going and who she was running to. 

It knew, and so Natasha began to know. She probably always had known, just hadn’t believed it, had pushed it so deep she’d convinced even herself it wasn’t true.

But as she stood tall again, palms pressing to the glass window, eyes peering into the bright white room at the end of the hallway, she knew. She knew completely and utterly and there was no hiding it again, no supressing it, no convincing her mind otherwise. 

Because, as Natasha looked and looked into that room, she realized what it was. It wasn’t a cell or a holding room or a supply cupboard. It was a surgery room. 

And they were performing surgery on Tony.

His voice in her head whispered ‘_sorry, Little Red._’ and her world crashed down around her.

Tony was prone on the bed, ankles strapped down, people in masks surrounding him. His arm lay flat on a silver slab covered with blood, and she saw just what she had seen in the hospital; arm ripped open, blood dripping and coating everything it touched. He had a tube sticking from his mouth and the monitors around him screeched warnings that the others seemed to ignore.

And then it got worse. 

Because it dawned on Natasha that they weren’t fixing Tony. They weren’t sewing his arm back together, they weren’t pumping blood into him, they weren’t trying to keep him alive. It was them. They had done that to his arm, they had injured him, they were killing him. 

Tony hadn’t ever been aware the hospital was fake, and he hadn’t ever been by her side. 

She’d imagined it, hadn’t she? She’d woken up and her mind had conjured the person she was most worried about. The fake Tony had helped her though, hadn’t he? 

But as she looked down at her hands, she found blood and hair stuck there, under her nails, and the ghost feeling of ripping the electrodes from her head burned themselves in her memory. She’d taken the electrodes off, she had hit the floor, alone, and she had opened the door, alone. 

_He wasn’t real. _

Natasha stumbled back from the door, openly gasping, shuddering so hard she couldn’t stop. She almost fell as she back-peddled, eyes wide as she rushed to one of the other rooms. She looked in, stared at a figure on another silver slab, electrodes around his head, IV in his arm. 

_Bucky._

All the air left her body and she moved backwards, not stopping until she slammed into the nearest wall and then she remembered more.

Hand moving of it’s own volition, she pressed fingers to the back of her skull.

And her vision exploded with stars, with white hot pain, and her fingers came down covered in blood.

Tony hadn’t actually hurt himself to wake up, but she had. 

She'd known all along not eating hadn't been her choice, hadn't she? That was why she'd imagined Tony with an IV, because some part of her had known _they_ were controlling that, not her. Had she known?

Looking up the hallway, the drops of blood on the floor registered, her bloody handprints on the doors registered and she realized she was in a lot of trouble.

Her head was agony, thoughts sluggish and hazy, her vision blurred and her body getting weaker.

Natasha had really hurt herself. She was bleeding, could taste blood, her body throbbed in tandem with her racing heart. 

If they hurt themselves in the fake world, they hurt themselves in the real world. 

If they died in the fake world, they died in the real world.

How long would it be before one of her friends tried the same thing? Bucky had lapsed, said her real name. He had the same confusion. He had been wiped before, just like she had and if she had figured it out, it wouldn’t be long before Bucky did too. Not only that, but how long before someone in the real world killed them? Tony was laying there, tube breathing for him, heart failing on the monitors.

Natasha had to do something, she had to save them, had to get them out, had to protect-

She didn’t feel the hand wrapping around her from behind until it was too late. With the way her body was feeling, the way her vision blackened, it wouldn’t have been long before she’d passed out anyway. Now there was no chance to run or hide or get away because the hand cutting off her oxygen and the overwhelming weakness in her body and the roaring in her head would leave no room for fighting.

She was about to go under again. She was about to be sent back there. She had to remember, she had to remember, she had to-

Natasha fell into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsie please don't kill me ;)
> 
> TW's are the usual. I hope you enjoy <3

_When Natasha woke up, it was to an unfamiliar room._

_That in itself wasn't actually that unfamiliar. It happened with the job more often than one would think._

_It was the kind of room she woke up that startled her._

_Sitting up, the woman scanned the room and tried to take stock of all the strange details._

_For one, the room was fairly empty. Two, there was a bed opposite her own that held a slumbering woman she didn't recognise._

_With a frown, Natasha clambered off the bed. If she woke up somewhere strange, she was usually tied down or otherwise restrained._

_But she climbed off the bed with ease, confusion growing as her bare feet hit the floor._

_Looking down at herself, she found she was clothed in a matching two piece set of yellow pyjamas._

_It was then she noticed the plastic band wrapped around her wrist._

_Just as she twisted the plastic to read what it said, the door opened._

_The man who walked in was a welcome sight to see and Natasha immediately walked over. "Phil?"_

“Natalie.” Phil nodded, coming over to stand by the side of her bed. He reached his hand out and for some reason, Nat instantly jerked back from his touch.

Phil’s brows furrowed a little, “I’m just checking your bandages, it’s come a little loose. Are you okay?”

Nat frowned, lifting her fingers to her head. It didn’t take her long to find the material under her touch. Déjà vu flooded her mind so quickly she almost felt dizzy. She dropped her hand, eyes burning. She remembered this. It had happened before. Right? 

“What…what happened?” Nat frowned, slowly lifting her gaze up to Phil’s. 

“You don’t remember?” the man asked quietly. “Don’t worry, the doctor said that might happen. You came here straight from the hospital last month. Your injury got aggravated a few days ago so we had someone patch you up.”

Nat remembered this, she did, but it felt…different. Some things felt exactly the same and others felt so drastically different she couldn’t keep up with the racing of her thoughts. 

“Here,” Phil reached again and this time the redhead didn’t move away. He tucked the loose bit of bandage under another layer. “We’ll go see the doctor after breakfast, okay? If I’m not around, go see Maria or Bucky in the office.”

Nat just nodded dumbly, watching as Phil moved over to the other bed in the room.

She was back at the beginning. 

…

The next week and a half moved in some kind of daze for Nat. Things continued to feel both so familiar and so different. Seeing Bucky, music class, talking to Clint in the breakroom felt like they had already happened. Having her head wound looked at, the pain in her temples, the naps she had to take, felt brand new.

Over the first few days, she had come to the same conclusion she was sure she’d already come to at a different time. The world she was in wasn’t real, and she had to get out and back to her friends.

However, in terms of her friends, there were noticeable missing pieces. Thor and Tony were nowhere to be seen. Thor being missing made her feel sick, but realising Tony wasn’t there had actually made her physically throw up when she’d first realized it. She didn’t know why his disappearance hit her harder than Thor’s, why whenever she thought of Tony she would be close to tears and would feel her stomach revolt again. She didn’t know why she was so so panicked about his absence that she’d literally triggered a panic attack in the lunch room when Bruce walked in to collect his tray. 

Terror had caused through her veins as she’d watched her friend pick up a cup of blueberries in the most lackluster way, he'd looked around the room, as if searching for someone. His eyes glazed right past her, and it wasn’t hard to guess who he was trying to find. Bruce hadn’t made any hints that he knew it was all fake, but it was clear he knew something was wrong. Something was off.

Maybe she’d been trying to get through to the wrong people. Clint was a no-go, and she was still working Bucky as much as she could. Nat had originally written Bruce off, she barely saw him and he was so quiet and kept to himself it had seemed unlikely she would even get close to him. 

That hadn’t stopped her. The next day, she’d gone to the lunch room early, and as soon as Bruce had come in, she’d intercepted his way to the fruit tray. As far as she remembered, Bruce didn’t even like blueberries that much, they were Tony’s thing, and that was a big enough spark of hope, that she somehow managed to convince him to come sit with her. He sat and stared at the blueberries he always picked up, brows furrowed. 

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to eat them, Nat had slid her untouched plate of scrambled eggs towards him. “You don’t seem to like those,” she’d pointed at the cup in front of him, “why do you keep getting them?”

Bruce had taken a small bite of the eggs and shook his head. “They make me happy.” He’d said quietly, almost whispering, and Nat hoped to god she was on to something. 

She’d met Bruce for lunch every day since.

…

A week and a half after she remembered waking up for the first time, and things were going slow. Bucky was familiar with her, but Nat was aware, somewhere deep in her brain, that he was different than last time. He didn’t smile as much, didn’t use the shortened version of her fake name (she would never ever use Natalie as an alias ever again), he was kind still but there was an edge to all of his interactions with her. 

However, she knew that if there was anyone with the possibility to remember, it would be him. They’d gone through wipes, had gone through people messing with their minds for years. Surely, surely, if any of them would be able to break through whatever wipe they’d had and realize everything too, it would be Bucky.

So Nat worked at Bruce every lunch time, and she worked at Bucky at any opportunity she could get. She would approach him in the halls, go to him in the office, would ask for him to escort her to groups, to the doctor, outside in the garden. She would ask him to play cards or chess with her, and then, with Bucky’s mind so focused on something else, Nat would see more of his mannerisms come out, would see more of her friend in him than she did at any other time.

They were playing their now daily game of poker (unfortunately without bets because what was Nat gonna bet? The broken pack of pencils in the art room?) when things took a turn.

At first, Nat didn’t pay much attention, too focused on Bucky’s expression as he scanned his cards. He was so close and yet so far away. It had started off as just noisy steps and a raised voice, too far away for Nat to really bother listening. But then it escalated so quickly her head span.

She’d gotten too lenient, hadn’t been watching her surroundings enough, had let her guard fall down. In nearly two weeks, she hadn’t had to fight anyone. Hadn’t had to anticipate moves. Hadn’t had to react so quickly.

Muscle memory, or…just normal memory, she supposed, kicked in. Adrenaline coursed through her at the sound of running, getting louder, and by the time the tall figure of whoever had been muttering and stomping was on them, Nat was out her seat.

The redhead vaguely recognised him from around the hospital, but she didn’t know who he was or why, all of a sudden, he was slamming Bucky into the ground, chair flying out from under her friend. 

Time didn’t slow or any shit like that, but Nat was definitely caught off guard enough to freeze for a few seconds. The man, hospital band around his wrist was almost on top of Bucky, talking too quickly and quietly for Nat to hear, but it was clear Bucky had apparently done something unforgivable to him.

It should have been easy to stop him. Bucky was bigger, stronger, knew how to restrain properly, knew how to stop attacks. Nat knew this, and Bucky seemed to know it too. Still, in the few seconds it had taken him to be knocked to the floor and pinned down, he tilted his head towards Nat and jerked it to the direction of the doors.

She understood what that look meant, she was supposed to sound the alarm or run to the office, and Nat had been going to do that. The redhead wasn’t sure if she wanted her fighting skills to be out in the open, if that would make her more of a target, or if she would give away just how good she was.

Nat had taken a step towards the door, but then she saw it.

The man had a blade, a knife, and even as part of her brain tried to figure out where he’d gotten it from, she was moving towards the men on the floor.

Fear, dread, panic, ice, clawed through her veins as the man pressed the shiny silver blade to Bucky’s jaw. She knew, with absolute certainty, that if her friend died, right there in front of her, he would die for good. Nat had no idea at all how she knew that, but the clarity of that realisation had her moving quicker than she had in weeks.

Why wasn’t Bucky fighting? Why wasn’t he kicking the man off, pinning his arm, grabbing the weapon? 

“I’m always doing you boys’ jobs.” Nat muttered under her breath as she approached the pair. Bucky’s brown eyes widened as her saw her standing over them, worry more palatable at that moment than there had been about the literal knife at his throat.

Nat took a breath, eyes hyper-focused on the angle of the blade, the distance from it to Bucky’s skin, the angle of it, mind already working over every possible outcome to determine the best course of action. It took barely a few seconds and then Nat, no, Black Widow, was striking.

First, not willing to kick the blade when it was so near it’s target, knowing she was going to hurt herself in the process, Nat grabbed the blade. Her palm wrapped around it, pain and blood welling up immediately. It hurt, but it was also no longer at her friend’s throat, so she really did not care.

The man wasn’t exactly a skilled fighter, had figured the element of surprise would be enough for him to do what he wanted to Bucky. 

With her bloodied fingers wrapped around the blade, Nat shoved all her weight against the man. He stumbled back a few feet, and the redhead felt more than saw as Bucky got up from the floor. But she wasn’t quite done, she was angry, really fucking angry, and also damn terrified. She stalked towards him, teeth bared. She pulled her uninjured arm back, fingers curling into a fist as she stood over the man. She was a millisecond away from punching the guy into the floor when a voice from behind her stopped her in her tracks.

“Natasha, stop!”

She did stop. Not because she didn’t want to punch the man, she definitely did, but she stopped because all of a sudden she was Natasha again and Bucky wasn’t using her fake name.

Natasha turned, heart in her throat. It was likely a fluke, a mistake, he wouldn’t know her, he wouldn’t remember, he wouldn’t-

Bucky looked on the verge of tears, he was staring at his hand, all pink and clenched and absolutely not metal at all. He pulled in a shaky breath and his gaze was then on Nat once more. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. His expression was anguished and confused and scared and familiar. 

“Buck?” Nat whispered, taking a small step forward, chest so tight she felt on the verge of a panic attack again. Please, she begged silently, fucking please give me this, let one damn person remember me, please.

“Talia.” Bucky whispered and without realising, without meaning to, the redhead was running straight for him.

Her arms wrapped around him, and his around hers and as she tucked her face against his shoulder, she knew she had been seen. Bucky saw her, he knew her. 

He remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) ;) ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me very happy. New chapter should be coming soon!


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